Here is the conclusion to Arjun and Kavita’s story.
“What condition…?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper against the sudden, suffocating silence of the room.
Kavita didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stood up, walked over to the large glass windows overlooking the moonlit gardens, and untied the silk belt of her robe. As it slipped from her shoulders, she turned back to face me.
I braced myself, expecting the natural signs of aging. But what I saw made my breath catch in my throat.
Across her torso, spanning from her collarbone down to her waist, was a massive, intricate network of deep, silver surgical scars. Near her ribcage, the skin was unnaturally tight, covering a distinct, metallic protrusion just beneath the surface.
“Three years ago, I didn’t just retire, Arjun,” Kavita said, her voice completely devoid of emotion. “I was diagnosed with advanced thoracic cancer. The surgeries saved my life, but they left me dependent on an internal automated medication pump and a fragile cardiovascular system. The doctors gave me five years at most. I have less than two years left.”
I stared at her, the initial shock giving way to a wave of profound sadness. The wealth, the mansion, the Rolls-Royce—it wasn’t a fairy tale. It was a countdown.
The Real Ultimatum
Kavita stepped closer, pulling her robe back over her scarred chest.
“My relatives know I am dying,” she whispered. “They have already legally contested my will, claiming I am mentally unfit to manage my estate. Under Indian succession laws, if I die without a spouse or direct heir, my entire empire reverts to them. But if I am married, you become my legal next of kin. You inherit everything.”
“So you used me?” I asked, a bitter taste rising in my mouth. “To spite your family?”
“I chose you,” she corrected sharply, her eyes flashing with that familiar fire. “Because when we met at that charity event, you were the only person who didn’t look at my name or my wallet. You looked at me. The condition, Arjun, is not physical. The condition is that you must endure the hatred of the world, the scorn of your family, and the ruthless legal warfare my relatives will unleash on you the moment I pass. You cannot run. You must take my wealth and use it to finish the charity work we started. You must become the shield for my legacy.”
